


drawing blood from a stone

by b_o_i



Series: galra traditions are Wild [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Power Play, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9446870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_o_i/pseuds/b_o_i
Summary: “When do we start?” he asks, straightening up to look the other in the eye.“Right now, if you wish,” Kolivan says. Keith tenses in anticipation, but the Marmora doesn’t move, doesn’t reach to attack him or turn to lead him somewhere else. “On your knees,” is all he says, and that startles Keith into reeling back."Excuseme?” he asks, almost sure he heard wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> s2 killed me and im coping with some keith abuse (im sorry my son)

 

 The dark suit they give him is skin tight yet oddly not restricting. Keith slips the fabric on and manages to zip up the back and doesn’t feel trapped at all. It’s light, barely feels like it’s there at all.

He focuses on that weird thought, weird alien fabric, to distract himself from the fact that he’s going to go out and probably fight a bunch of highly skilled Galra resistance members to find out who he is. It’s easier.

He’s shaken out of his brief reverie by a knock on the door to the small white room he’d been shown to to change.

“I’ll be out in a second,” he calls, taking a deep breath. There’s another knock. “I said I’ll be out in—“ he startles when he turns and sees one of the Marmora standing behind him—the leader, Kolivan, Keith thinks. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. 

“You are dressed,” he says, peering down at him. 

Keith shifts uncomfortably, not sure how exactly to respond. He settles on a nod.

“Are you ready to begin your trials?” the Marmora’s voice is flat, giving nothing away. Keith wishes he could at least see his face so he could get a better read on him, but through the mask it’s impossible. 

“I am,” Keith replies, and then adds, “What exactly are they?” after a moment of silence from the other. 

“If you survive, they will show you the path to what you can become,” he says vaguely, “They will bring you the knowledge you desire. If you fail,” the leader shrugs, “then they will bring you only death.”

Keith bites his lip, closing a hand into a fist to steady himself. If there’s anything he hates, it’s not knowing what to expect. But he didn’t come this far to give up on something before he’s even begun—hell, he’s wearing a skin tight suit with purple glowing orbs on the back of his neck. He’s going to see this thing through to the end.

“When do we start?” he asks, straightening up to look the other in the eye (an approximation of where exactly his eyes are because he still can’t see them.) 

“Right now, if you wish,” Kolivan says. Keith tenses in anticipation, but the Marmora doesn’t move, doesn’t reach to attack him or turn to lead him somewhere else. “On your knees,” is all he says, and that startles Keith into reeling back.

_“Excuse_ me?” he asks, almost _sure_ he heard wrong.

“On your knees,” Kolivan says again, void of emotion. 

Keith blinks, but does what he’s told, sinking slowly and carefully down, sitting back on his heels so he’ll be able to jump back up with ease if he has to, “Why exactly?” 

“You seek knowledge, do you not?”

“I do,” slowly.

“Then you may seek it. But first, you must prove that you are truly dedicated.”

Keith just blinks up at him again because he doesn’t really understand? Until Kolivan unfolds his arms, gloved fingers finding a hidden zipper and sliding it down slowly. The sound echoes in the small empty room and then— _then_ Keith gets it.

He jerks back quickly, reaching unconsciously for the knife in his belt, “Hold on,” he snaps, “I’m _not_ going to—“ 

“Do you not wish to find your answers, then, paladin?” Kolivan asks, sounding eerily and aggravatingly calm, like he hasn’t just propositioned him. 

“Of course I do,” he snaps, “But—“

“If you truly wish to know the truth,” he cuts him off again, “You will perform our trials.”

“Are you serious?” Keith shoots back, “I doubt _this_ is a _trial._ This is—“

“If you will not respects our rules and our traditions, _paladin,_ there is no reason for you to attempt the rest of the trails. If you are not going to take this seriously, I suggest you really do leave.”

That draws Keith up short—the cold tone in his voice, and the fact that he may get kicked out anyways, without learning anything—and he freezes. Considers.

Kolivan catches him considering, he must, because he takes a step forward and closes the gap between them, the zipper completing its journey in the quiet. 

Keith hears the fabric shifting and tries very very hard not to look up. He’s not sure he wants to see what alien dick looks like. He can feel Kolivan gazing down at him through his emotionless mask, waiting. Keith’s never had much dignity in his life, constantly beat down and passed around between foster homes like a breathing bag of income, but he’s always had his pride, if nothing else. 

He thinks about the knife and the fact that he’s so so close to finding out who the hell he is, he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and swallows whatever pride and/or dignity he has left.

“Fine,” he forces himself to say, “Fine. But don’t—“ he swallows, refusing to look up at him, “I’ve never…done this before. So. Don’t be an asshole about it.” 

If Kolivan finds that funny, he doesn’t say anything. Keith can imagine him raising an eyebrow at him from under that damn mask and grimaces. 

He feels a hand on his head and flinches. “You may begin.” 

Right. 

Keith nods, makes himself lift up his head and almost flinches again because fuck. Fuck, his dick is long, and ridged, and _purple_ —his fucking dick is purple and he’s going to put it in his mouth and god, he can’t do this, he can’t—

He has to, he reminds himself sharply. He has to. 

With that thought in his mind, he ignores the eyes on him and reaches up. Hesitates. Carefully takes Kolivan’s dick in one of his hands. It’s not soft, but not fully hard yet either, probably. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how the fuck alien dicks work. He’s so incredibly out of his element because he hasn’t even had the chance to put a regular, human dick in his mouth yet, and now he’s jumping straight into territory literally unknown to mankind. 

He wishes his impulsive tendencies would take charge when he wanted them to, because right now he doesn’t know if he can make himself take the extra step without them.

Kolivan says “We don’t have all day, you know,” and that kind of makes the decision for him.

He shifts to get comfortable on his knees, and finally leans forward and takes him into his mouth. 

It’s odd, the ridges he feels along his tongue foreign and unknown. He takes too much at first and chokes a little, but eventually manages to fit the first good bit of it comfortably in his mouth. 

The extent of his knowledge on blowjob-giving comes from porn and the occasional guilty late-night fantasy of Shiro’s hands in his hair, guiding and gentle and firm, so he isn’t exactly in his element here, but he tries. Grips Kolivan’s waist to steady himself, bobs his head like he’s seen, sucks a little bit. 

He’s got a good rhythm going when he feels a hand on his head again, gloved fingers gripping his hair lightly. He jerks again, forwards this time, and chokes. He tries to move back to get some air, but the gloved hand holds his head steady. He gasps around his dick, sucking air in desperately through his nose and trying to stay calm.

“Humans have such sensitive gag reflexes,” he hears the leader remark, and his face burns. His indignation helps him get his breathing straight, the motivation to _not make an idiot of himself_ with his mouth around the guy’s cock. 

The hands in his hair tighten, and then _drag_ him forwards. He almost chokes again, but forces himself to open his throat as much as he can, tries not to panic as the ridges scrape along the insides of his mouth. He feels spit pooling at the edges of his mouth and slowly dripping down and feels disgusting. 

“Good,” Kolivan murmurs, like he’s a child who’s just successfully learned something, and pulls him back by his hair, dragging Keith off of his cock.

He gasps for air once, twice, before he’s shoving him forwards again, forcing his dick even further down his throat. Reflexive tears gather in his eyes, blurring his vision, so he clenches his eyes shut tight and relaxes his throat and lets himself be used. 

His head is dragged back and forth a few more times, his scalp burning, but eventually Kolivan switches to just holding his head in place while he thrust his hips. He must like that more, because he hums in the back of his throat and thrusts _harder_ , _pulling_ Keith into the thrust. Keith is sure his jaw will be sore for the rest of his life and he’s never going to get this taste out of his mouth. 

“You are a very pretty creature,” Kolivan tells him when a tear escapes and rolls down his burning cheek, “Very nice on your knees like this. Though, you lack experience,” another hard thrust; Keith makes a sound in the back of his throat that has him humming again, “You will be an interesting one to watch.” 

Keith’s head swims; he feels humiliated, talked down to.

“Suck harder,” the Marmora says, and so he does, because the sooner he does the sooner this will be over and the sooner he’ll be able to breathe again. 

It happens soon enough. There’s a stutter in his thrusts, his hands tighten tighten _tighten_ in his hair and then he’s shuddering and something warm and wet is shooting down Keith’s burning throat.

He tries again to jerk back, but the hands don't let up. 

“Swallow,” Kolivan says, “Show your dedication,” and so Keith does, because he’s tired and spent and wants this to be over. 

As soon as the hands let up he falls back onto his hand, coughing and sputtering and gasping, trying to spit out whatever’s left of the goddamn fucking alien come. Something dark purple lands on the floor in front of him and he almost wishes he kept it in his mouth so he never actually had to see it. 

He catches his breath eventually, the Marmora’s eyes burning holes into his head, zipping his suit back up.

“Decent job,” Kolivan says, and Keith feels a burst of anger and shame all rolled into one, so strong he wants to throw up. “Your first trial is complete. You will complete the rest of them in the arena.” 

With that, he turns and walks briskly out the door, moving like all he did was tell him where to go, leaving Keith in a messy heap on the floor. 

Later, once he cleans up and ventures out, he finds Shiro waiting for him, looking worried. He looks him up and down when he sees him, clearly surprised by the wardrobe change, and says “Nice suit,” and then “I was worried you got stuck or something”.

There’s a smile on his face, like he's worried and a little scared but trying not to be—all Keith can think about is how Shiro was probably standing just down the hall while Keith was on his knees taking Galra dick down his throat, and wants to die a little. 

 

 


End file.
